


Glad You're Here

by Robiness



Series: Slow Sunrise [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Supportive Clover Ebi, implied trauma, they're okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robiness/pseuds/Robiness
Summary: Qrow wonders if he could ever give Clover what Clover had given him.[Occurs some time after the events of I Hope To Try.]
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Slow Sunrise [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621939
Comments: 30
Kudos: 211





	Glad You're Here

**Author's Note:**

> Clover Ebi is a dork, pass it on.
> 
> Tumblr: [robiness](https://robiness.tumblr.com/)

The first time Qrow noticed the habit, he couldn’t make eye contact with Clover for days afterward.

Clover had been making some stir-fry that afternoon for when the kids came back. Qrow had just come back from a Grimm-clearing shift with Ren, who wanted to offer the recovering Huntsman some help. 

When the boy had approached Clover from behind to tap his shoulder, Clover had tensed. 

It was an infinitesimal movement, and Qrow doubted Ren noticed at all.

But Qrow noticed, and suddenly there were flashes of Harbinger ripping through the white front of the Atlas uniform. Next thing he knew, the kitchen light bulb shattered above them. 

“Qrow?” 

He looked up to see both of them looking at him in concern. 

He mumbled an apology, and quickly retreated. He stopped in the hallway for a while, heaving as nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

Right before he calmed down enough to go to his room, he heard Clover’s muffled laughter as Ren recounted something Nora had told him.

 _How could he laugh?_ was a recurring thought quickly brushed away, since he had long given up on finding an answer.

Since then, Qrow observed Clover when the latter wasn’t looking. A part of him thought that maybe he was overthinking it, that it was just a military habit he never picked up on. It might have been a fluke, maybe he was genuinely startled by Ren that one time. Regular Huntsmen didn't like being sneaked up on, in any case.

As usual, Qrow was proven correct in his negativity. 

Clover in combat was constantly moving. Hell, they all were, and it was always a smart thing to avoid getting surrounded by enemies. His mobility improved every day, and his speed and aim were never anything to scoff at. 

But even after the fights, he would step back just a tad and keep his eyes searching around them. He always had every other fighter on shift in his sight, and he never looked in one direction for too long.

 _Clover’s a natural leader,_ Qrow told himself. _Of course he’ll watch over the team. These are kids, I do it too._

However, Clover at rest wasn’t any different. He always sat fully embedded in the couch, and if it was full, he would lean against the wall. His permanent seat during meals faced the doorway, even when the rest of the inhabitants constantly switched around. Everywhere they went, he would always keep an eye on all the possible entrances. 

Qrow's suspicions were confirmed. Clover's back was never exposed if he could help it. 

Qrow wondered if Clover knew he was doing this. If he was aware that Tyrian Callows had left him more than one souvenir.

_All this time you were paralyzed by your own issues that you forgot why you were upset in the first place. Of course Clover wasn't fucking infallible, he was the one stabbed through because of you. Stupid, thoughtless—_

“Why’s your face all glum?”

Qrow looked up. They were in Clover’s room, taking a break from the noise the kids made downstairs. Clover was up on his bed, propped against the headboard with a book in his hands, while Qrow was sitting on the floor next to him. 

He must have been staring into nothing for a while now.

“This is my normal face,” he said, fiddling with the pin on his collar.

“Nope, that’s definitely your brooding face,” Clover argued, closing his book and setting it aside. “Which admittedly looks very similar to your normal face, except that your eyes tense more around here.” He pointed at the inner corners of his own eyes, then his teasing smile turned gentle. “What’s up?”

“S’nothing,” Qrow insisted, though by now he knew that it wouldn’t work.

“Qrow.” Predictably, the tone was chastising. Qrow wondered when Clover would tire of this tug of war. _When will he get tired of my bullshit?_

“How was your last check-up?” he asked instead, lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the bed

Clover sighed, but humoured him. “Same as the one before that.” He took Qrow’s left hand and started playing with his fingers. “I’m practically good as new. Like I said, I'm touched, but there's no need to worry.”

That was true, but as Qrow let his wrist be turned so that strong, calloused fingers could stroke his palm, he still felt the nasty gurgle of fear and guilt rising in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, intertwining their fingers so that it was a steady weight between them. “It’s just. It’s still hard. But I keep getting caught up in my own guilt, forgetting that you had it bad, too, even though that's exactly what I'm guilty for? I... It doesn't make sense when I say it out loud. But. Sorry.”

Clover pulled him up the bed, so that Qrow ended up straddling him. On other days, Qrow would be a blushing, stuttering mess, but right now he needed the closeness that Clover’s embrace gave.

_Again, you're allowing yourself to be selfi—_

“Hey,” he heard above him. 

Qrow pressed his ear against the broad chest, so that he could feel every beat of Clover’s heart, every rumble of his voice, every rise and fall of his breath. “Hey to you, too.”

“Is there anything specific that brought this on?”

“Does there have to be anything specific?” he retorted. “We’re both pretty fucked up in an already-fucked-up situation, waiting for Salem to fuck us up even further.”

Clover squeezed him tight. “Must you be so vulgar?” he chuckled, moving one hand up to stroke Qrow’s hair. 

Qrow trembled, still not used to the sensations that came with all the _touching_. “Yeah, comes with the package, you know. One bad luck charm for sale, freebies include eight brats and a history of misery. Manners not included.”

He basked in Clover’s answering laugh. Then, he felt his chin being lifted until he was looking at bright green eyes. 

“I’ll take the lot,” Clover murmured earnestly, smiling straight at him. “Very gladly.”

_How can he... How is this so easy for him?_

Qrow’s gaze dropped to the mouth that said such gentle words, and he quickly lifted it again. “Yeah? You sure about that? It’s going to cost you a lot.”

Clover raised an eyebrow in mock arrogance. “I think I can handle it, Branwen.”

“Maybe,” Qrow muttered, resting his cheek against the chest below him once more. He could feel the cold metal through the vest and he lifted one hand to press against it. “But maybe it’s not worth the trouble.”

A hand continued to play with his hair, and Qrow felt the slow pull of sleep. Resisting, he moved to untangle himself, thinking that the conversation was over, that the metaphor had outrun its course. He didn't look at Clover as he retreated, but he felt the gaze on him like a brand.

Once he was standing up, he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. 

_Stupid, stupid, old man. What were you doing, what did you think would_ —

“I trust you, Qrow.”

“What?”

Clover sat up, swinging his feet so that they’d land on the floor. He reached for both of Qrow’s hands and held them against his lips. “I trust you, remember?”

“Yeah, but what —”

Green eyes pierced his. “Don’t you trust me?” he was asked. 

_What is he talking about?_ “Of course I trust you —”

“Then _trust_ me.” Clover’s gaze was so open, so fond, and it made Qrow’s heart ache because he knew deep in his soul that _he didn’t deserve this._

He felt tears come, and involuntarily let a dry laugh escape. It sounded too much like a sob for his liking. “Ah, you’ll ruin my reputation, you sappy dork, you’re always making me cry—”

Clover stood up, towering over him as he cradled Qrow’s face. Qrow instinctively retreated again, feeling too exposed with his fucking _endless_ tears _. Pathetic, he’s the one you’re supposed to be looking out for, Branwen. Do your job, you—_

The self-deprecating thoughts screeched to a halt when Clover kissed his cheek, lips pressing against the wetness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against the skin, rubbing slightly against Qrow’s stubble. 

Then he went to press his lips on the opposite side as well. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, a thumb circling Qrow's jaw.

 _I should be the one apologizing_ , Qrow’s mind protested, but instead he felt like he was glowing under the attention. No one had ever touched him so softly, and feeling it now was devastating but… soothing at the same time. A terrifying comfort.

Clover knew that Qrow was physically strong, that he was excellent in combat. Hell, despite all the shit Qrow talked about himself, even he’d give himself the credit of absolutely owning the battlefield at his best. He struggled with his mind and soul, but never his body and its capabilities. 

So why did Clover hold him like he needed gentleness and care? And why did he accept it even if he was the last person who required _or_ deserved this kind of treatment?

“Shhh,” Clover interrupted, kissing his forehead. This time it was playful, ending with an overdone smack. “Brooding face, begone.” He squished both sides of Qrow's face, and laughed when Qrow slapped his hands away.

“Shut up, Ebi,” he groaned, but felt himself smiling anyway. “Can’t believe _you’re_ one of the best Atlas has to offer.”

Clover smirked. “Got the best partner, too.”

Qrow opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of running footsteps cut him short.

As with any moment of peace within the building, one of the kids got around to interrupting them. This time it was Nora who barged into the room. Clover and Qrow had already stepped away from each other, but were still very close, hands brushing slightly.

“Yes, Nora?” Clover inquired, after a moment of awkward staring. 

She narrowed her eyes, looking at Qrow, then Clover, and back again. “Blake’s back from shift, so you’re up, Qrow. And Clover, Jaune’s asking if you can cover for him today — some of the moms cornered him again.”

“No problem,” the two men unwittingly said at the same time, making Nora look even more suspicious. 

“...Riiiiight,” she said, backing out of the room without removing her gaze from the two adults. “I’m going to leave now, and _not_ start a betting pool with my hard-earned lien.”

When she was finally gone, Clover burst into laughter.

“Shit,” Qrow groaned, rubbing his temple. "Meddling teens, just what I need." Though he couldn’t control his grin at the other man’s mirth. 

Before the crash, they weren’t like this. Qrow knew enough to recognize the flirting, and the not-so-subtle glances, but they never touched beyond what was needed for missions, or talked about anything too buried within them.The other man was obvious in his interest since the beginning, but never broke his professional persona. 

Qrow wanted to keep Clover _this_ way — laughing and carefree. What happened with Callows would always be a horrible nightmare that would be part of their shadows for the foreseeable future. Even after Qrow ensured the Faunus was gone for good, they would still have their scars, some that won’t ever go away. The nature of their jobs and the state of Remnant at the moment assured even more dangers to come.

_But we can handle this. I have to support him, too._

* * *

Outside, after several waves of Grimm falling to them, fate tested his words. 

A Boarbatusk charged at Clover from behind while he was busy with two Beowolves in front of him. Normally, the other Huntsman could handle all three, but the Beowolves were smart, and kept his attention divided. Clover couldn't see the fast-approaching threat.

“Shit!” With no time to yell a warning, Qrow plunged his makeshift dagger into his one Grimm and jumped behind Clover. Worry and determination made his vision sharper, and his muscles moved through the familiar dance that made the name Qrow Branwen known throughout Vale, and even beyond.

The Boarbatusk was already at its maximum speed when Qrow impaled it, the momentum allowing the dagger to slash clean through the moving Grimm without further effort on his part. 

“Nice catch,” Clover called, as Grimm disintegrated all around them. 

Breathing heavily, Qrow shrugged. “I got your back, don't I?” he drawled, more casual than he actually felt. In truth, it was an oath he was probably willing to take into the grave.

Deep inside, he felt an unfamiliar giddiness as well.

_If my one asset is my skill, then I gotta continue using it to give as much as I can._

Maybe eventually he would be able give Clover just as much support as Clover gave him.

“Lucky me, then.” Clover’s grin was too bright in the daylight, squeezing too tight around Qrow’s heart. This stubborn Huntsman deserved everything, could have everything he wanted really, but he chose to stay by Qrow's side... 

Amidst the newfound serendipity and euphoria, Qrow pulled on the other man's vest and enthusiastically pressed their mouths together, his own smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Qrow Branwen having a positive thought? Call the police, call the media, call the president. AND it's sorta about himself? Summer Rose is somersaulting in the spirit world bb
> 
> Their first kiss was supposed to be later on in the series but they deserve it.
> 
> Jsyk, this series isn't over just bc they kissed haha, just like how recovery goes. They still have issues! A few I'd really like to tackle. Yee.
> 
> Also remember, the more Fair Game, the merrier!


End file.
